


Funnel Cake

by MizJoely



Series: The Hudson Chronicles [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, Warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly wants a sweet treat, but overprotective daddy-to-be Sherlock takes away her funnel cake. Uh oh!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funnel Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilsherlockian1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/gifts).



> Dedicated as always to lilsherockian1975 and H!

“It’s a what?”

Sherlock’s expression hovered somewhere between ‘doubtful’ and ‘horrified’ as Molly held the deep-fried confection up to him. “A funnel cake,” she said. “With powdered sugar. Mmmmmm!”

He had to admit, it smelled rather good, but still – a deep fried sugary treat purchased from one of the carnival’s many questionable vendors? Um, no. Definitely not for him – and, he thought as he plucked it deftly out of Molly’s hands, definitely NOT for his pregnant wife, either. “Too fatty, too sugary,” he proclaimed. “You’re supposed to be eating healthier, Molly. That’s what you told me when I brought you crisps for lunch last week.”

The look his wife bestowed upon him was murderous; the giggle that escaped from Mary Watson’s lips as she hung back and watched was grating. Still, when he turned his frown on her, all she did was waggle her eyebrows at him and hold little Vera closer to her chest. “Sherlock, didn’t you learn anything from my pregnancy?” she asked.

John, who’d gone off to fetch his wife an ice cream, rejoined them at that moment. He took one look at his wife’s mirth, Sherlock’s scowl, and Molly’s compressed lips, and said, “Great. Gone five minutes – five bloody minutes! – and you’ve already managed to muck things up.” He looked back at his wife. “What did he say?”

“He’s trying to tell Molly she can’t have her funnel cake,” Mary replied in an exaggerated whisper.

John’s eyes widened, and he quickly took a step back. “So, right.” He cleared his throat. “How about we go sit down over there,” he gestured vaguely behind them, “and eat our ice cream while Molly and Sherlock have a nice chat about how much he’s going to enjoy sleeping on the sofa for the next week?”

Sherlock stuck his nose in the air and tried not to look like a very worried husband as John and Mary strolled away. Even little Vera’s expression was unhappy – although that could more likely be attributed to an imminent bowel movement than to any personal opinion on the situation at hand. Especially since she was only three months old.

When he turned back to his wife with an attempt at a friendly smile on his lips, however, he quickly found himself scowling again. Mostly because she was very calmly – and very noisily, deliberately so – eating her funnel cake. Which she’d removed from the plate in his hands while he was distracted by the departing Watsons. “Traitors,” he muttered.

Correctly interpreting his grumpy word, Molly gave him her widest grin, being sure to give him a good long look at the half-chewed food in her mouth. “Ugh,” he said turning his head away and shuddering. He could look at corpses all day long, investigate the most gruesome crime scenes, show pictures of decapitated nuns to enthralled pre-teens – but the sight of a mouthful of chewed up food utterly and entirely grossed him out.

Which, of course, his wife well knew. He waited until he heard her swallowing – with many exaggerated smackings of her lips – before looking at her again. “You did say,” he reminded her weakly.

“I did,” Molly agreed. She moved closer and patted his arm with one sugar-dusted hand, blithely transferring the white powder onto the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt. Blast, now he’d have to have it dry-cleaned; his fault for not wearing a simple t-shirt as Molly has suggested! “But pregnant women have cravings for a reason, Sherlock – can you deduce what mine might be?”

His eyes brightened; not only was Molly no longer angry at him, but apparently she was offering him up a puzzle to solve, brilliant! He pulled back and looked her over from head to toe with a – not a _critical_ eye, exactly, more of a… _deducing_ eye. “You’ve only gained four pounds since your last checkup,” he murmured in a rapid monotone. “Skin very clear and healthy, hair fuller and shinier, eyes clear, nothing that could be considered bad news…”

“Depends on what you call bad news,” Molly interrupted him. He stared at her, a sudden dread in his heart. She saw his reaction and calmed him with another smile. “Here, hold this,” she said, giving him the remains of her funnel cake in order to fumble for something in her handbag. “You missed the scan because of that case – not mad, I understand! – but if you’d been there…”

She held out a small, square piece of paper – ah, a print-out of the scan, their first official picture of the baby…Sherlock gulped and felt the color drain from his face as he examined the image. “T-twins?” he said weakly, swaying on his feet. He gave Molly a sickly smile. “I-I always miss something,” he said – before collapsing to the ground in a dead faint.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” John shouted as he ran toward them.

Molly gave him a wry grin. “He’ll be fine, John.” Her grin deepened as she knelt down and rested Sherlock’s head on her lap. “Let’s just say funnel cakes are the last things he’ll be worrying about for quite some time!”

Sherlock never did live that particular ignominy down – and John was sure to have plenty of funnel cakes on hand when the twins were born six months later!


End file.
